


Deserving of the Best

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gossip Girl Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:54:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6765784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(idle rich au) Reo had leaned in and bumped his knee against Teppei’s, until he was close enough for Teppei to smell the alcohol on his lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deserving of the Best

He wakes up stiff, but that’s nothing unusual. It’s unusual for his back to feel stiffer than his knee, though, and for his arms to be this cold, and when he cracks his eyes open he realizes he’s not wearing a shirt and the warm thing in his arms is a person. Specifically, it’s a still-sleeping Mibuchi Reo, hair slightly matted and tangled, mascara smudged in small streaks on his skin, drooling on the four-hundred-thread-count pillowcase and wearing Teppei’s worn-out solid black Louis Vuitton t-shirt. Of course.

That explains the stiffness (courtesy of the overly-soft foam mattresses in the hotel Reo’s mother owns) and the cold (Reo is fond of cranking the thermostat down nearly as low as it will go, which according to him is because it increases metabolism but Teppei’s pretty sure that’s just one of many reasons), but it asks more questions as it answers. Did they do anything last night? Does Reo want it to look like they did, even if they didn’t? Does Reo want him to ask?

Reo sighs in his sleep, sliding his foot up Teppei’s leg—Teppei’s still wearing his pants, at least. He gently releases Reo from his arms and extracts himself from the bedding. There’s got to be a bathrobe in the closet or something, and maybe getting up will make him remember something. Teppei shakes out his back and shoulder, raising his arms up without wincing. They don’t crack but they feel a little better. He studies himself in the mirror, unkempt hair and stubble on his cheeks and twisted, wrinkled Brooks Brothers khakis. What had happened last night? He frowns and scratches his cheek.

They meet each other at the hotel bar every Friday; the bartenders know Reo (specifically they know who his mother is and thus not to charge him for drinks, although he always tips well) and they can always skip the wait if they get there later than usual. Lately it’s been the two of them more often than not, Kotarou and Eikichi bowing out to the point where they text if they are coming rather than when they aren’t, and Makoto not bothering to play the “well, I had nothing better to do so I came here but I’m not doing this because we’re friends” card. And at first it had been weird but Teppei’s been looking forward to a few hours of just him and Reo, where they can flirt and order drinks for each other without Kotarou saying anything about what they’re doing or Eikichi butting in or Makoto spilling anyone’s drink.

Last night had been the two of them again; Teppei had gotten there first and ordered them both cosmos. Reo had arrived and scrunched up his nose like a crumpled piece of paper at the offering and ordered a rum and Diet Coke, and so Teppei had downed the rest of the first cosmo and started on the second, savoring its numb tartness this time. Reo had leaned in and bumped his knee against Teppei’s, until he was close enough for Teppei to smell the alcohol on his lips.

And then he’d started talking about school, tease that he is. Teppei had grazed his knuckles against Reo’s thigh under the table and Reo’s grin had widened and then he’d ordered another drink. They’d continued to talk about inconsequential things, the buzz of the bar’s actual paying patrons fading around them as if they were walking out of a room with seventy TVs on channels with nothing but static. Teppei had started to feel pleasantly warm around his fourth drink (he’d switched to dirty martinis) and it had been hard not to think about Reo’s lips and the glimpses of the shell of his ear between strands of perfectly-falling dark hair and the smell of the lavender lotion he wears on his hands as he’d bring them up to gesture or take another sip of his drink.

“You want to head upstairs?” Reo had whispered, just loud enough for Teppei to hear.

And Teppei had nodded, tucking a few bills under his empty glass and following Reo through the crowd that somehow seemed to part before him like a deck of cards when the dealer cuts it to re-shuffle. He’d reached for Reo’s hand and Reo had thrown him a glance too quick to read under the dim lights and when they’d gotten in the elevator Reo had kissed him.

Reo had a room reserved for him on the top floor; that had given them enough time to do things in the elevator (and no one else had gotten on in the meantime), like for Teppei to cop a feel of Reo’s ass and Reo to grind his hips tight against Teppei’s and for Reo to lick the brine from Teppei’s lips and tangle his fingers in Teppei’s hair. And then they’d lain down on the bed and Reo had said something about sobering up even though neither of them was that far gone. So they’d lain on the bed and watched basketball on TV and intermittently felt each other up or rolled around a bit until the flush was gone from Reo’s cheeks and his eyes had focused on Teppei. Yeah, they’d definitely done some things.

“Do you want to?” Teppei had said.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Reo had murmured in response and then Teppei was undoing the buttons of his tight, freshly-ironed Hugo Boss shirt and moving down on his torso.

And then he’d gone down on Reo and Reo had curled those impossibly soft fingers in his hair and he’d made sounds that had sounded half-rehearsed and damn good but it was the unrehearsed break of his voice like a wave you think is going to rise but hits something and collapses halfway up, the erratic scraping of his breath in his throat in the way Reo hates, that had turned Teppei on the most. And when Reo was done he’d jerked Teppei off into his underwear, which explains why he’s currently wearing his pants with nothing below. And Reo had stolen his shirt when Teppei was brushing his teeth and Teppei had crawled into bed next to him and then they’d both fallen asleep.

Teppei pulls on the bathrobe and grabs the room-service order form from the table. His stomach is already telling him it wants food and the time between when Reo wakes up and when he gets a caffeine headache is never very long (and he always complains about them but that doesn’t stop him from downing several fancy café drinks overloaded with espresso every day—but on his list of vices it’s pretty far from the top).

Reo stirs beside him on the bed, rolling halfway on top of Teppei’s leg. He sits up, reflexively reaching up to rub his eyes but then pulling back.

“Good morning,” says Teppei.

They’ve woken up in bed together before, mostly in their own clothes (except for the times when Reo’s borrowed Teppei’s sweater) and every time Reo’s been grouchy and a little awkward with him and Teppei’s expecting that. He doesn’t get it.

“Hey,” says Reo, pulling himself up into a sitting position.

He kicks Teppei’s feet with his own under the covers. Teppei grins. That’s still the same at least; he kicks back.

“Breakfast?” says Teppei.

“Continental and coffee,” says Reo with a flip of his hand.

He presses his body into Teppei’s left side, and Teppei’s hand finds his to clasp it. He can feel Reo exhale slowly, the slight acceleration of the pulse in his wrist. Reo’s lips are parted slightly, the way they’re supposed to be to make things picturesque (at least that’s what Reo says). And even from this angle, Teppei has to admit that it kind of does look classic, the sort of posed-but-natural-enough-to-think-otherwise (well, to anyone who doesn’t know Reo) that looks like something out of some postmodern magazine spread.

“What?” says Reo, looking up at Teppei from under his lashes (and even when the mascara is smudged the look is still the same).

“Nothing,” says Teppei, and kisses him on the nose.

(And Reo’s little half-squawk is totally worth it.)

**Author's Note:**

> me: i will stop writing gg!au
> 
> me: rereads most of the series
> 
> also lmk how i did with the flashback?


End file.
